the quinnsane diaries. // blood and oil.

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the quinnsane diaries
2.1. // blood and oil.

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The sound of clapping is heard before a series of lights begin to flicker on, showcasing the Victory Champion Ellie Quinn, slowly cracking her neck as she comes into view from black, an unamused smirk on her face as she holds the PWE Victory Championship tightly pressed to her chest, the smirk turning into an aggravated snarl as her eyes dart up, locked with the camera set up in front of her. Taking a long, slow inhale before taking a long, slow exhale.

"So, out of all this fresh new talent, out of every single possible option...you give me some joke like Chelsea Skye!? Seriously, that is the best possible option you could've picked for me? Well shit, thanks for the fucking lay-up. I won more matches in my first two shows than she has her entire career, and one of those wins she has is by forfeit against a fucking cat!"

Ellie's unable to help the soft chuckle that leaves her lips as she takes in just how ridiculous the words that left her lips truly sound out loud.

"I mean, you'd think a match against a cat would be a fuckin' piece of cake, and you only won it by forfeit, kid. Meanwhile, I've become the lightning bolt running through this place that the entire industry is talking about."

Shaking her head, Ellie shifts the PWE Victory Championship to be draped over her left shoulder. Her right hand comes up and her thumb and index finger pinch the bridge of her nose, shaking her head as she tries to come up with the right words to describe her upcoming title defense.

As she's about to speak, however, she hears the sounds of loud barking coming from her front door, a bell quickly jingling soon after. Sighing to herself, Ellie watches as her dog, Markov, strolls into the room, tongue wagging out of her mouth as she looks up in full "UwU" mode, expecting attention. Ellie slowly drops to a knee, playing with her emotional support dog who licks her face in appreciation.

Shifting back up onto her feet, Ellie grabs Markov's leash from a support hanging off the wall. 

"To show you all just how seriously anyone should even take a challenge from Chelsea Skye of all people? I'll be taking you through an average, normal day in the life of Ellie Quinn, since defending my title against someone like Chelsea Skye is just an average, normal day."

Smirking, Ellie hooks the leash onto her dog's collar, rubbing her back.

"Let's go for a walk, girl."

Leading the pet pocket pitbull to the front door, Ellie grabs hold of the camera, holding it up to herself with one hand, leading the pup on her leash in the other. 

"Chelsea, you're a Chi-Town girl, you probably recognize some of these streets, huh? After all, you'll be living on these streets once I put an end to whatever miserable career you might think you have. So I'd recommend you get a good, long look at some of them as Markov and I pass by 'em...scout the area, zoom in on some discarded boxes you might wind up moving into. Hell, call your realtor right now and tell them you want to move into my backyard, since I'm going to be making you my bitch in Orlando when PWE makes its big, grand return..."

Ellie pulled the snapback up off her head, combing a hand through her gelled hair before placing it backwards on her head, her aviators hanging off her nose. Her green eyes clearly visible as she stares directly into the camera, a gleam of mischief and arrogance in her pupils.

"You know, I may just have to move out of Chicago...especially if failures like you want to call this place home. See, I'm the Michael Jordan of Chicago. Everyone loves all the championships I bring to Chicago, but I just can't wait to leave. That's a basketball reference, people. And you, Chelsea? You're...ehh, you're like the...Jay Cutler of Chicago. You're trying your best, but not a goddamn soul in this city wants you here." Football reference, there. Real football, by the way, not that pansy soccer shit. Anyway, Chelsea, right now I'm on my way to pick up some lunch and...'strategize' about all the ways I can make you bleed."

Looking up the road she and her pitbull walked along, Ellie shrugs as she stops at a Five Guys, tying her pup up in the shade during the Chicago summertime.

"No biting. I'll be back in a few."

Wiping her brow, Ellie steps inside, ordering herself a bacon cheeseburger and french fries before sitting down at a table outside, the camera facing her as she takes a bite, Markov's head laying in her lap, talking with a mouthful of food.

"Mmph—see, Skye, this is pretty much the perfect analogy to how little anyone actually gives a damn about you. You're pretty much an easy target, an easy victory, a pushover...a fuckin' scrub. You're as easy to rip through as this fuckin' burger."

Further proving her point, Ellie takes another bite out of her food, wiping her mouth with her forearm. Leaning back in the chair she's sat in, Ellie takes in the sights as she watches cars go by, taking a long swig out of the drink accompanying her lunch.

"Are you expecting me to go into some long monologue about how hard I'm about to work to make sure I beat you, Chelsea? If you are, then...sorry to disappoint you, but this match is basically all but over already."

Having the nerve to even go so far as to prop her combat boots up on the table as she leans back in her chair, Ellie lets out a hearty laugh as she takes another drink from the soda cup in her hand.

"But, if you really want to stick around and hear the gory details about how much fun it'll be to make you gush like a goddamn fountain, maybe I'll just humor you and tell you...maybe."

Finishing off her burger, Ellie slowly shifts herself out of the chair she's seated on, tossing the paper and plastic remnants into the adjacent trash can, even going so far as to toss her soda cup over her shoulder, hearing it drop into the can.

"What can I say? I'm a fuckin' god at that."

Grabbing Markov's leash, the pup takes the lead as they make their trek home, Ellie lowering her sunglasses to stare into the camera once again.

"Alright, kid, you really want to know if you can handle yourself against a real champion in that ring? In a match where I can do whatever I please to you and get away with it? If you're actually looking forward to a match with me where there's no countouts, no disqualifications, no restrictions...you're either dumb, or crazy, or just crazy dumb."

At last, Quinn and her dog reach her front steps. Opening the front door, Ellie kneels down and frees the leash from her pup's collar, the energetic pitbull sprinting inside. Meanwhile, Ellie slowly makes her way inside, closing the door and locking it shut.

"If you really, truly want this match? Then you're in for the fight of your fucking life, babygirl. And that's not hyperbole, that's not bullshit, that's pure real fucking life. See, I've spilled blood on four different continents...and I do mean spilled it. A first blood match is fuckin' nothing compared to the warzones I've been in inside that ring. Deathmatches, street fights, barbed wire, lighttubes, broken glass, Cage of Death. You name it? Ellie Quinn has fucking done it."

Ellie's eyes roll back in her head, her head slowly tilting back as she reaches into her back pocket, pulling out something. Whatever Ellie has pulled out, a gleam hits off a light overhead and begins radiating across the ceiling, proving it's something metallic in make. Ellie keeps it concealed behind her as she puts the camera down in front of her, kneeling down and getting in close.

"You want to draw first blood? Good luck. Because I know a million and one ways to make you start dripping like a leaky fucking faucet, kid. You think you can one-up me in a ring with no rules about what I can or can't do to fuck your career up, your whole life up? Then you've never seen what Ellie Quinn is all about. So if you don't want to back out of this match? There's no saving you."

Standing upright, Ellie lets out a slow exhale before suddenly turning around, firing whatever was in her hand straight out of it and towards the door. Grabbing the camera, she brings it with her to reveal that now lodged in the wooden door is a cold, sharpened butterfly knife.

"It's going to be your funeral, live and in living color at the Happiest Place on Earth. You step inside that ring with Ellie Quinn, and sure as fuck isn't going to be sunshine and rainbows. I'm not a house cat, I'm a whole other animal. And I won't drag you to Disney World, I'll drag you down to the underworld. Instead of spinning around on teacups, you'll be spinning in your goddamn grave."

Ellie slowly steps out of view of the camera, the lens zooming in and focusing on the steel butterfly knife lodged in the door before it fades out to black.

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2.1.